Second Nature
by Her Name Was Tamora
Summary: #2 in the 'Second' Series   From a little girl in Boston to a grown woman in prison, we catalogue the early life of Faith Lehane, and find her in the present day - an estranged Slayer, leading no one, searching for a father she doesn't even know.
1. Boston, 1995, i

**Title: Second Nature**

**Series: Always Second**

**Author: Tamora**

**Setting:** Post BtVS Season 7, Pre-Season 8 comics. Pre- end of OotP in Harry Potter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the characters, settings or concepts presented in this story which originated in Joss Whedon's "Buffy" or J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series. I do hold claim to the words written here, though I make no profit off of it.

**Author's Notes:** This story switches timelines every other chapter. The earlier timeline takes place around 1994 or 1995, when Faith is 11 years old, though it is narrated by an older Faith. The later timeline takes place after the events of "Chosen".

**Second Nature**

**Chapter One**

_Boston, 1995_

I used to make up stories about my dad.

Mom told me that he was dead when I was old enough to ask about him. Four or something? I dunno. Anyway, I didn't like that idea, so I just fudged it a little. First he was a spy for the government, who had to pretend that he was dead so he could go on top-secret missions to Brazil or Spain or Israel, but he'd always carry around a little picture of me in his pocket, and ever night he'd look at it and say "Good night, Faith," before he went to sleep.

Then he was a fighter pilot who was stationed in Africa. And his plane got shot down, but he survived, and he stumbled through the desert for years before finding a village where he stayed until he could get healthy again. And when bad guys came to attack the village, he would get everybody together to fight them off and he'd be a hero. And every night he'd take out a picture of me and say "Good night, Faith."

Then he was the President of the United States. But on the news he looked kind of old and had dorky glasses, so I didn't really want him to be my dad.

Then he was a demon hunter. With a fedora, cause "Raiders of the Lost Ark" was my favorite movie. And he'd fight bad guys in suits and slimy monsters with horns and stuff and he'd stab 'em and kick 'em in the face!

There's a reason for that, I swear. I wasn't a little psycho kid… at least that's not what the shrink tells me. It was cause'a the dreams. I'd been getting the Slayer visions since I was 6. My first Watcher, Diana Dormer, she told me it was a combination of my Slayer visions and my own… weirdness. 'Coping Mechanism' she called it.

But that's not important right now. Lady Di is dead. Which sucks. A lot. She was like a mom to me, kinda. Not the actual Lady Di, but... well, that one too. But Diana got really mad at me when I called her that, cause the real one was dead and she was, like, insulted...

Sorry. Back to the matter at hand. My _actual_ mom. What a bitch. Seriously twisted piece of work, lemme tell you that. And this is coming from Little Miss Dark-Side-Of-The-Moon. She drank a boatload… which I did too for a while, but not so much that I got completely batshit crazy like her. After all, I had Slayer metabolism to balance it out, and for an Irish chick, ma could _not _hold her liquor. Hollow leg? No such beast.

Anyway, I really hated my mom. When I was little I'd just cry and whine and walk around Southie and think about running away before feeling stupid and guilty and pathetic and crawling back home to get my ass whuped a little more. Later on I grew a pair. Actually managed to run away around 6th grade for a couple months… funniest thing: Ma called the school to ask if I'd been in. I hadn't gone to school since the beginning of 5th! Man, these Irish-Catholic beer-guzzling mother fuckers...

Granted, not all the Irish-Catholics guzzled beer, and not all were such mother fuckers. I think it was just my luck I ran into all the ones who _were_.

Anyway, the cops found me eventually, squatting butt-naked in a house with a couple other kids and a stash of PCP the size of your great granny's ass.

I got put in a foster home. But not before getting my little one-up on mom.

Okay, so I stole a fuckin nickel or something that I found in her jewelry box. Around that size, at least – this funny looking round-ish coin with some French writing on it. Weird that it was French, cause she was always so damn _proud_ of being Irish. I hear she even visited. Once.

Goddammit, I miss her. I really do.


	2. Cleveland Airport, 2003

**Title: Second Nature**

**Series: Second**

**Author: Tamora**

**Setting:** Post BtVS Season 7, Pre-Season 8 comics. Pre- end of OotP in Harry Potter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the characters, settings or concepts presented in this story which originated in Joss Whedon's "Buffy" or J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series. I do hold claim to the words written here, though I make no profit off of it.

**Second Nature**

**Chapter Two**

_Cleveland, August 12, 2003 9:13pm EST_

It wasn't until they'd gotten to the transfer at Chicago O'Hare that Robin told her they should see other people.

Faith spent the next flight pretending she was asleep, because he was right next to her and she really didn't want to seem upset. He'd seen her fight, seen her naked, seen her spread out on her back gasping in pleasure, seen the look in her eyes at the moment she thought she'd lost him. He'd _stolen_ those things from her. Taken them under pretense. He'd seen all of those things... She sure as hell was not gonna let him see her cry.

And it was fake-sleep or watch some movie about a dog and Chevy Chase.

At the end of the flight, when he'd reached up to grab her bag from the overhead compartment, she'd slipped past him and pulled all four of their bags down herself. He usually would've scolded her about being too blatant with her Slayer strength - hell, Wolfram and Hart had only just been able to get her name cleared; they did not want any more attention drawn to her. But now wasn't the time. Either he knew that, or she walked away too fast for him to say anything.

After 4 craptacular airport McDonalds meals, Faith was fighting off the urge to go into the bathroom and break a toilet or a sink or something. But that would end in badness. There were probably cameras in there too, considering the fear of terrorist threats in airports. Or perverted old Senators at the urinals.

Instead she tossed them a quick "I'll meet you at baggage claim", and jogged around between terminals, pretending to be looking for her flight. She probably looked ridiculous, but she didn't care. She needed to work off steam, NOT in the presence of her... ex, she supposed he was.

Cleveland wasn't much of anything. She'd been there before, briefly, on a trip with Diana. Diana, for all her severity and stiff-upper-lipness, tended to spoil Faith when it came to certain things. Like late night ice cream and little "vacations". Of course these vacations mainly consisted of visiting various towns and studying (see: killing and occasionally dissecting) the local creature of the night-life. Still, despite the more serious overtones, it was a vacation. For Faith it was... nice. Fun.

Now? Less fun. She was liking Cleveland less and less. Whining children, pissed off passengers, and the stench of sweat and airport carpets permeating the air.

Granted, they'd spent the last three months in paperwork hell so at least having something to do was good. The government, as indebted they were to the Scooby gang after that military thing (that B never really explained, after all this), made short work of reimbursing practically everyone who'd been through this dread incident. From insurance for the lost Revello Drive house and items, to life insurance for those girls who'd lived under the care of their now deceased watchers, to a small amount of compensatory damages for the trauma they'd all been through. It'd taken at least three solid weeks of accounting work - something Faith'd never done before - to record all their losses.

The largest batch of funds had been from the insurance set up by the Council. The Council itself didn't have much money left on its own, but the books lost in the explosion were worth a fortune. So invaluable, in fact, that even the money Giles had received for it - as the remaining watcher with highest seniority - would never recover what was lost. B didn't care about the books much. She'd been all gung ho about it this year, but now she brushed the books off as "irrelevant prophesies for a much stupider time".

Surprisingly, Faith cared a bit more. Never exactly a book learnin' girl, but... maybe they had some answers. For her, specifically. I mean, Buffy showed up in those mysterious prophecies and records and mystical books dozens of times. So maybe Faith would too. Maybe they'd tell her what she could've done better, or what she was supposed to do now...

'_That's dumb thinkin.'_ Faith shook her head as she slowed to a halt by a Famiglia's Pizza at Gate 34M. '_Anything on me would've been long past. Nothing I can do to change shit now, so no point'n whining about it. Fuck books, fuck Wood, fuck fuck fuck fuck.'_

Faith turned around, ignoring confused stares from others and the foul smell of left-over airport pizza ('_I'll pass on the food poisoning, thanks'_), and jogged back in the direction she'd come from. She arrived at baggage claim, feeling oddly as though she wanted to sneak in undetected - not by any means her usual modus operandi. She didn't like the feeling, in fact. It was uncomfortable, making her shift in her shoes and push her shoulders up defensively as though she should be ashamed of being... ya know... dumped.

...she'd never been dumped before.

Surprised it'd taken her this long to recall this, Faith contemplated what she might have to do now. Eat ice cream and watch bad movies? Whine all night to her little girlfriends? Did that actually make people feel better?

Faith could see Willow talking to Ro - Wood. Big Earth Mama was along for the ride, just for a couple weeks though. Supervising. Because Faith couldn't be trusted to take care of it on her own. She remembered Giles explaining to her why Willow was coming, not that Faith had even _asked_ him.

"_Y-you've just never handled this much responsibility before, is all. You're in a serious leadership position, and we want t- to ease you into it as... w-w-well, as easily as possible."_

Right. She could practically hear him cleaning his glasses all the way across the pond. She got what he was really saying: the last time she was in a leadership position she'd gotten half their team blown up. He couldn't afford to leave her in charge. And maybe he was right to do that. Maybe she wasn't up for this. I mean, the leading young girls in a life of danger and motivational speaking to protect the world from blah blah blah... it wasn't for her. Nothing was ever for her.

There was something stuck at the bottom of her throat when she saw _him_ talking to Red - something unfamiliar and painful. It was pretty easily identifiable as jealousy; stupid, she knew, cause Red didn't drive stick anymore. But there it was.

Faith brushed her long hair out of the way and shoved that feeling to the back of her head, marching forward to grab the duffle bag she spotted on the baggage carousel. Checking the tag - _Lehane, F. LON - ORD - CLE, 8/12/03 _ - she glaced at the others to make sure they were all together. Shannon was looking through suitcases before she finally found hers - a big red one - and turned to see the others.

Faith took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Okay guys-"

"Guys, looks like we're all set here, so we're on 94th, off of Carnegie. Remember that. It's in Fairfax. Now, Giles' friend didn't... um, give us an address, but he said he'd meet us there and that there's gonna be room for all of us, and - and hey! Two-point-five bathrooms! Or, three even!" Willow smiled, looking goofy as she did years ago. She just hadn't heard Faith speaking ('_Or she didn't care,_' thought Faith, though she tried not to), but it didn't matter cause the girls were all excited now. They'd been cooped up for the last few months with dozens of other girls - now that there was only 11, two-point-five bathrooms sounded like heaven.

Faith stepped back, circling around the group and walking away slightly to a nearby map of the area, vaguely listening to Willow, but mostly just trying not to be bitter. It was, as of yet, an uphill battle.

"So we're gonna take rapid transit, okay? And we're gonna be on the red line, going towards..." Willow looked down "105... Quincy? Quincy! Okay. We're going to 105 Quincy -"

"Willow, couldn't you just pop us there?" Faith recognized the voice of Maxine, a Filipina from San Francisco they'd picked up when they were in L.A. "I mean, I'm really tired, and I just wanna take a shower-"

"No way, dude, I call dibs. I haven't had a shower in two weeks." That was Colleen. Her and Shannon were the only ones who'd been in the battle, and Colleen had some idea that it made her the boss. She was kinda... mini-Kennedy. Huh. Maybe Willow'd bone her next.

"Ewww-" Remy, from England

"Whatever, guys, can't we just-" Jessica, the girl from Colorado.

The others started talking all at once, but in this amicable, excited manner that only made Faith feel farther away. Willow giggled and tried to look frustrated. Wood smiled at the girls, his put-the-pal-in-principal attitude shining through those fucking bright teeth.

Faith just grunted and waited for Willow ('_Who is, apparently, the leader_' thought Faith, giving up the don't-be-bitter pretense) to guide the group towards the transit area.

As Faith walked out, she caught a quick glance of Robin, who was looking concernedly at her, as though wondering 'Is something wrong?' '_Of course something's wrong, you shithead,_' she silently berated him.

It took the rest of the train ride, Faith silently bitching and the girls giggling and Wood looking so truly _worried_ for Faith to realize what that lump in her throat was. It wasn't jealousy or anger or anything stupid and bitter as that... it was just...

'_Why didn't he want me?_'

The thought made her want to barf, so she shoved it aside and refused to think it ever again.


	3. Boston, 1995, ii

**Title: Second Nature**

**Series: Second**

**Author: Tamora**

**Setting:** Post BtVS Season 7, Pre-Season 8 comics. Pre- end of OotP in Harry Potter.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor do I claim to own, any of the characters, settings or concepts presented in this story which originated in Joss Whedon's "Buffy" or J.K. Rowling's "Harry Potter" series. I do hold claim to the words written here, though I make no profit off of it.

**Warning: This chapter makes mention of sexual violence, underage sex, abuse and drug use.**

**Second Nature**

**Chapter Three**

_Boston, 1995_

I don't remember a lot of stuff about when I ran away. Just a couple things. Some guy named Jackal (I'm guessing that wasn't his real name, though) filling me up with drugs. People told me that he sent me out on the streets so the perverts could have turns with me. God. I was fuckin' 11 years old... that's just nasty. I'm glad I don't remember it...

Actually, I'm still not sure it happened, since I only got told about it. I mean, I might have just got beat up.

Between my legs.

_...Right_.

I also remember this older girl. Lucy. Had all these tattoos - looked like a total badass. Long light brown hair that swung around every time she moved like she was just daring you to touch her. She had a knife she'd always play with. She had sex with all these different guys cause she was so hot and they all wanted her. She said "Miss Lucy had A Steamboat" was about her. And she taught me how to smoke. She was awesome.

Well, she's probably dead now, but back then I thought she was awesome.

The cops caught Lucy when they found me. We had a whole bag of 'zoom and I was off my ass seeing unicorns or something. They almost charged her with kidnapping when they realized I was a "missing persons". But she was 15 and a junkie, so nothing ever came of that. Least not involved with me.

Anyway, I got to the station and my mom was there. The police were asking her all kinds of questions. Why didn't Mom report me missing sooner? _Hell, I didn't notice she was missing... _Where might I have gone? _Shouldn't YOU people be figuring that out? _Did she know a girl named Lucy? _Shit no. _Where was my father in all of this? _Don't know, don't care._ All these questions and she was just staring at them looking annoyed and angry and coked up...

...But the moment she saw me outside the door, she dropped everything, ran over to me and hugged me, crying like the end of the world had come and we'd lived through it. She held on to me, crying "Faith! My baby, my baby! My Faith, my little girl!"

I could feel her tears all over me. It was gross. She smelled bad. Her hair was ratty and dyed bright red and she was dressed for business.

But I'd never felt more loved by my mother. Never.

I think I cried too.

The police were so pleased with having found me that they let us go home. Mom said we'd celebrate; she ordered a pizza and turned on the TV. Let me choose any channel I wanted, too. I chose Nickelodeon. After about 10 minutes of this, she changed her mind, said "What is this shit?" and turned it to _Maury_. She grabbed a drink and seemed to forget about the celebration.

The sensation I'd had when she hugged me - that false hope that she'd be my Mommy instead of... this... it was gone.

The social worker - Marcia - came the next day. The police's job may have been finished, but she sure as hell looked interested 'my case'. She was surprised there'd never been a file on me or nothing. She said they were gonna take me away - my mom started crying saying she'd "have nothing left" if they took me. I don't know what she meant. She didn't notice when I was gone anyway. After the social worker left my mom started packing her bags and things, saying we were gonna run for it while they were busy getting a court order. That lasted a whole 2 hours before she forgot what was going on and sat down to drink and watch her stories.

The last night I spent there - the second in three months.

Marcia came back the next day with two other guys in case my mom got violent. She asked if I'd packed my things. That's when I ran inside to take some of my mom's shit. I took a fiver and a bracelet before looking in her jewelry box. There wasn't any real jewelry in there. Costume earrings, condoms, and that weird nickel.

I told you about the nickel, right? The French one?

Anyway, I took those, shoved them in my pockets, and looked over at my mom. She was still passed out on the couch. I walked up to her. And as much as I hated the bitch - hated that she ignored me, hated that she let her Johns touch me, hated that she didn't even try to fight for me now - I wanted more than anything for her to get up and at least say goodbye. Just a moment when she would get up and say "Nice knowing you" or "I'll miss you" or even "Take care of yourself, Faith." Maybe she'd give me a hug. Promise to get better and come take me back someday. Promise she would visit. I waited for two minutes, hoping she'd find it in herself to get up even for a moment. I know it's stupid - she was out like a light. Wasn't just gonna wake up on her own. But I thought... maybe if she loved me enough... ya know? It'd just happen...

I couldn't help it. She was my mom.

It didn't happen, needless to say. I left, got in the van while Marcia went to wake my mom up and talk to her. I saw them through the front kitchen window. My mom was crying and shouting and bitching. She looked ready to kill.

Why couldn't she have done that before?

Marcia quickly left the house when my mom started throwing things. She got in the car with me and the two other guys.

I watched mom throw her cigarette in the ground and smash a glass on the floor, tears streaming down her face, and I started to cry. I started touching the car window as if it could somehow let me fall through into another word - pawing at the glass and whining "Mommy, Mommy, I'm sorry, don't let them -"

Then we drove off. I never saw her again.

Maybe that's for the best.


End file.
